Salorean Room Service

This is a story with dark themes: sex slavery, sci-fi tentacle monsters (and human monsters), captivity, mental conditioning, etc. Be warned! And, obviously, don't be like these characters.

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DAY 1

"Holy shit."

"She's cute."

"She's...huh."

Rhune blinked away the pleasant haze of the fading stasis field. Curious faces peered down at her.

"Are you okay?"

It was a young man, about her own age. A face she didn't recognize, soft and round, tinted green by cholorphyll treatments, framed by long, midnight purple hair.

Her blood froze. Memories cut through her bones.

"Hey, hey," said one of them, gently, touching her arm. He must have seen the panic in her eyes.

He took her hand, gave her a soft tug, leading her out of the cushioned cubicle she had been stored in. He was tall, handsome and broad-shouldered, with tan skin and a long nose.

How long had she been unconscious?

"Who are you?" she said sharply. She had to maintain command of the situation.

The purple-haired boy introduced himself as Ziff. The taller one as Lym.

Behind them stood Nahia, a young, pale, mousy woman wearing a puff-blouse and what Rhune dimly recognized as a bio-specialist's feed interface clipped to her ear.

They told her they were off-world university students on break. Well, that checked out. At any given time, there were probably at least a million intoxicated college kids visiting Salorea.

She was in a hotel suite. On one of the beds sat a fourth student, a slim, well-cut dark-skinned boy with gold paint around his eyes, digging through a travel bag.

"I'm Pael," he said. He seemed embarrassed. "Look, I'm sorry about this. There must have been some sort of mix-up."

"You don't think your parents meant to order us sexual services?" grinned Ziff.

"I...wouldn't put it past my dad, honestly," Pael mused glumly. "But, no. I think he just ordered us the most expensive package they had, because he likes to intimidate my friends."

Lym had led Rhune to the other bed, even bigger than her own back home at the palace. She sat down. Her legs felt like jelly.

Sexual services.

The hotel bed seemed to sort of purr beneath her. A prompt to buy massage credits?

More memories begane to filter back into her mind. Her personal servitor, leading her to the private room at the rear of the palace where the stasis cubicle had been wheeled in.

Her stomach sank.

Wasn't she supposed to have received some kind of orientation? But her handlers had probably wanted to keep this as quiet as possible. She wished she'd thought to do some research.

"What's your name?" Ziff asked her. He might have been blushing, although it was hard to tell behind all the cholorphyll.

"You don't need to know that," Rhune hissed.

"Her name is Rhune," smirked Nahia. "It was on the cubicle display."

"That's why you seemed so familiar," Lym burst out. The tall, athletic young man, who had introduced himself as a Galactic History student, looked her up and down with a lingering grin that made her shudder.

He flicked on the wall-screen and pulled up an image of her from the newsfeed. Princess Rhune, at the opening ceremony for a new ski dome.

She groaned internally.

On the screen, she was wearing a long gown trimmed with spectacular living flowers whose roots grew from a matrix of fine fabrics and nutrient gel.

Here, in the hotel room, she was dressed for public brothel duty -- a flimsy, diaphanous sarong and slender matching breast-band.

The outfit came with some tacky, showy jewelry, a crystal diadem and a turquoise collar that encircled her throat and spilled out over her shoulders and upper chest. Some marketing hotshot's half-remembered parody of an ancient Earth concubine.

It probably really was better for business than a more tasteful look. Best not to unpack that any further.

She was acutely aware of how much of her body was on display to these strangers.

She was even more acutely aware of the creeping sensation of arousal, slithering through her, aided by who-knew-what chemical brew.

"Princess Rhune," Ziff breathed, looking between her and the image. "It is her. Unless...it's some kind of clone?"

"I am not a clone," she said, standing up sharply. "I am a Princess, and you will treat me with respect."

Cloning. She should have thought of that. Why hadn't she cloned herself for just this purpose? Okay, it wouldn't be very nice to the clone, but...

They were all staring at her now.

"I mean, I know this is a fucked up pleasure planet," said Nahia, "But why would the actual reigning Princess of Salorea be in a stasis cubicle in our hotel room?"

"We have a lottery here," Rhune said. "Everyone must do their part, even me."

Foolish girl, rattled old Veritim's rasping voice in her memory.

The withered chamberlain had tried to persuade her to only announce that she would be eligible for the lottery like everyone else -- not actually allow her name to be in the running.

She had refused to cheat. On a planet of 2 billion, she hadn't thought she would actually be picked.

Aargh.

She was beginning to feel strangely cold, despite the throbbing heat between her legs and the comfortable temperature displayed on the nearby thermostat.

She straightened, trying to maintain a proud bearing.

"Salorea is a pleasure planet. We all have a duty to keep our visitors happy and our tourism industry strong."

To bring pleasure is our pleasure, cheered the diverse array of Salorean workers in the ads they beamed across the cosmos. She managed not to echo the idiotic slogan, but she cringed internally at the way she sounded. Fake. Gross.

She plowed on.

"Before I ascended to the throne, impoverished brothel workers suffered under years-long indenture contracts. I freed those people, and instituted a fair and just system."

Lym sidled up to her, fingers brushing her waist. She shivered, leaning automatically into the warmth of his hand, then jerked away.

"That's not how I heard it," he said, touching her hair. "The newsfeeds say rich jerks are still weaseling their way out of service left and right. If they don't want to employ outright bribery, they can simply live on orbital platforms outside the legal boundary where the lottery applies."

He was touching her belly now, his fingertips lightly brushing the downy hairs just below her navel. She felt heat course through her. Her cunt clenched, hunger gnawing at her.

"You could have actually banned compulsory sex work," he said mockingly. "You just shuffled the existing system around, and patted yourself on the back about it. You're reprehensible."

"I..." she was doubly mortified now -- at her body, responding greedily to his touch, and at herself. "I wanted to ban it. You don't understand. Our economy is so dependent on..."

She trailed off.

She'd been cowed. By Veritim, by her sister, by a stream of industry titans and sleaze-peddlers. She had sworn when she took the throne she would end the practice, and now here she was, reciting the ugly excuses they had filled her with.

"My parents were from Salorea," Lym said. "They managed to escape, to make a better life for me. Most aren't so lucky."

Lym's eyes bored into her. His fingers slipped beneath her sarong, finding the dampness between her legs, slicking between her cunt-folds. She heard a pathetic mewl on her lips, and wriggled away, angry, trying to regain her poise.

She immediately felt colder, and her shiver returned.

"Don't touch me," she said, trying to muster her royal dignity.

" 'Everyone must participate,' you said," Lym rumbled in her ear, wrapping his arms around her. His hands brushed her nipples, cupped her ass. She wriggled helplessly, warming in his grip. "Even you."

Ziff had taken over the wall-screen and found the video of her announcing the new policy. Her own voice rang in her ears. She hated the way she sounded in recordings, reedy and unconvincing.

Weak, Veritim's sneering croak echoed in her thoughts. You think you can wave your royal scepter and make everything right, but you are royalty, girl. If you weaken yourself in your quest for justice, the strong will notice.

"C'mon, Lym," frowned Pael. "Let her go."

Lym pinched one of her nipples roughly. Pain, and warmth, shot through her.

Nahia approached, holding Rhune's gaze with a thoughtful look.

"She is supposed to be ours to enjoy for then next seven nights," she said slowly. "By her own policy, no less."

She grasped Rhune's chin between her fingers, turning her head this way and that.

"What do you think, Princess?" she said. "Don't you owe it to us -- to your planet --"

"To yourself!" Ziff filled in helpfully from the kitchenette, where he was fiddling with a coffee-maker.

"-- to honor that obligation?"

Lym, behind her, slipped a pair of fingers into Rhune's cunt. She bit down on her lip, willing herself not to cry out. He withdrew them, raised them, dripping with wetness that glinted in the lurid neon lights outside.

"Is this the real reason you didn't exempt yourself like the other rich assholes?" he laughed. "Because you wanted to get fucked by random tourists in a hotel room?"

"Certainly not," she shot back, controlling her breathing. "I will honor my obligation."

Lym pushed his fingers into her mouth, forcing her to taste herself. He manipulated her lips and tongue insolently. Sparks danced inside her head, warming her even as she reeled with outrage.

She staggered out from between the two students, sputtering.

"Each of you," she said, trying to keep from going shrill, "Will get your chance to be with me. If you have..." she hesitated. "An unusual sexual position in mind, please let me know and I will try to accommodate any reasonable requests."

She caught a glimpse of herself. The scantily clad figure in the full-length mirror by the dresser wore an unfamiliar color of lipstick, slightly smeared around the mouth. She wiped at it, glaring. She had heavy black makeup around her eyes, dark wings fringed with sparkles and a pattern of vivid slashes. Her hair was done up in an elaborate, gravity-defying, multicolored swirl to match.

She looked like a...

"Now," she went on, resetting herself. She gestured towards the door. "Why don't you go out and enjoy some of Salorea's many wonderful sights and destinations?"

"I did want to see the museums," Pael grinned.

"And the Aquarium," said Ziff.

"I think it's too late for that tonight," said Lym. "Let's just walk around and ogle the architecture, maybe find a restaurant."

Rhune breathed a sigh of relief. She could handle this. She would have sex with some obnoxious commoners, and then go home and forget all about it.

"I'm sure you'll have a lovely time," she said wrapping her arms around herself, shaking off a return of that unnatural chill.

She remembered attending some dry meeting with the engineering staff at the tourism board where they had outlined the battery of aphrodisiacs and other chemical and nano-robotic aids to be administered to citizens on brothel duty.

She hadn't always, she realized, been paying very close attention as they spoke.

Had she been pumped full of something that was making her feel cold -- as if she couldn't produce enough body heat even in this warm hotel room? She suspected a thermometer reading would show nothing out of the ordinary.

"I'll be in my cubicle," she said, trying not to sound petulant.

"I don't think you want that, Princess," said Nahia. "I've been looking through the terms of your duty. Time spent in stasis doesn't count towards your service clock."

"Then I'll spend it lying in bed, thinking about how much I'm looking forward to your return," Rhune snapped.

"I don't think that quite works, either. It's a little complicated, but you only gain service hours when you're in our immediate presence." Nahia's eyes were a little unfocused as she read from her feed interface. "Also, there's a huge tax surcharge on our bill if we stay in the room with you all day, which I guess is meant to ensure we don't let our horny little room toy distract us from going out on the town and spending money at all the tourist spots."

"Are you suggesting I have to go out with you?"

Like this?

"Worried about being recognized?" Pael said. He'd been looking at her with a bit more sympathy than the others. Could she use that?

"I can lend you a big floppy beach hat and some shades," said Nahia, who was digging around in her travel bag.

Rhune shivered.

The icy feeling didn't stop, even when she followed them out into Salorea's famously perfect late-summer air. On some level, she could feel it gently warming her. But between that feeling and her senses was a layer of chill.

She found she could keep it, slightly, by squeezing her thighs together. It helped a little more if she could manage to surreptitiously touch herself when the others were distracted by their sightseeing.

She occasionally spotted others on brothel duty. A slender, tattooed man, walking arm-in-arm with a red-haired woman. An older man, sucking cock right there on the sidewalk.

Well, she thought, they were commoners -- probably used to this sort of indignity, even in their everyday lives. I have more to lose. It's not fair.

"Princess!" called Ziff, waving her to follow them across the plaza.

"Don't call me that!" she hissed, hurrying up.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," he said, a little sheepishly.

"Yeah, c'mon dude," winked Lym, "She's incognito. We should address her as 'slut' while we're out."

She started to argue, but stopped herself. She really didn't want to make a scene. He gave her a nod.

"That's right. We wouldn't want any of Rhune's loyal subjects to know that this whore used to be a Princess."

"Why don't you tell us some of your turn-ons?" asked Ziff, as they strolled along the Old District, between beautiful pre-Establishmemt tower blocks.

"I'm not here to have a good time," Rhune said.

"Oh, c'mon," he said. "Relax! There must be something that would make this more enjoyable for you."

"Seeing your head vaporized by a blaster bolt," she shot back.

"Okay, okay!" he laughed.

She accompanied them into a restaurant, lips tight, trying to rub warmth into her shoulders.

"We'll cover your meals, of course," said Pael, looking around the table as if expecting an argument. "It's the least we can do."

It really was.

They ordered several family-style platters of spicy local delicacies.

"Slut," said Lym, the word lying rich and nasty on his tongue, "While we're waiting for our meal, why don't you crawl under the table and show my friend Ziff what that little mouth of yours is good for?"

She stared him down for a moment. There was ice in the pit of her stomach.

"Or should I announce to the people here that we have a celebrity in our midst?"

Ziff was definitely blushing now, his lips parted with excitement. He was, she had to admit, reasonably cute. She could have had it much worse.

Ugh.

Slowly, she dropped to her knees and, shedding the stupid floppy hat, worked her way beneath the tablecloth.

This was disgusting. These people were disgusting. She was disgusting.

But it could be worse.

She could do this.

She had done this before, sort of. She had never had time for intimate relationships. But when she came of age, she'd had her pick of indentured brothel workers to summon for practice. It had seemed like the thing to do.

As soon as her lips touched Ziff's cock, her shivering passed. When she took him into her mouth, blessed warmth surged through her. Her cheeks burned with shame as she worked up and down his length, but she swallowed down his come with a ravenous thirst that shocked her. It tasted far better than she remembered. Instantly, she wanted more.

She crawled out and staggered away to the restroom, hiding behind the puny shield of the hat and sunglasses. The hair and makeup would help keep people from recognizing her, at least.

Her cunt was throbbing. She had meant only to wash her face and reapply her makeup, but she found herself in a stall, fingers on her clit, sarong hiked up around her waist, shuddering with desperate release.

She made her way meekly back towards the table.

"What were you doing in there, slut?" said Lym, his cruel eyes boring into her.

"Jerking off," said Nahia.

"W-what?" said Rhune. The orgasm had only barely taken the edge off of her hunger, and it hadn't stopped the cold from creeping back in at all.

"The treatments make her incorrigibly horny," Nahia went on. "But she's apparently not ready to be honest with us yet."

Lym took Rhune around the waist as she moved to sit down, guiding her into his lap.

She thought about jerking free, but it was so warm there.

"You'll be punished if you touch yourself without our permission again," he said matter-of-factly, lifting her slightly so that her cunt came to rest against where his cock was pulled free of his trousers.

He toyed with her a little, sliding her back and forth slightly, her pussy lips slicking along his rail.

She moaned.

"If you ask nicely, I'll fuck you," he said, sipping an elaborate cocktail.

It took every fiber of her willpower to refuse him.

"I will not," she hissed. "I will live up to my duty, and that's it."

She should have stood up at that point, wrenched out of his grip, and returned to her seat. Her cold seat.

She was warm in his arms, and his cock was sending sparks through her body, and if she twisted her hips just slightly she could give her clit some friction against it, and...

...the rest of them went on eating, resuming their conversation, as she tried helplessly not to rub herself against him.

Her traitorous cunt ached to be filled.

They were talking about the different museums they could visit tomorrow.

Lym tugged sharply at her nipple, making her gasp.

He rocked his hips slightly, sending a shocking wave of pleasure through her.

Get up, girl, she heard in her mind. Or are you too weak?

She was too weak. She didn't want to leave Lym's lap. She wanted...

"Fuck me," she whispered, turning her head to him.

"What was that?"

"Please. Fuck me."

He was silent.

"Please," she went on. "It's these rotten treatments. I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't have you inside me."

"Very well," he said.

The relief when he slipped into her was amazing. He gripped her hips and began to set a rhythm.

Obscene little wet sounds rang like shouts in her ears as she tried not to look around the crowded restaurant. A few patrons glanced her way, their glances ranging from curious to leering to uninterested.

No one recognized her, she was pretty sure. Please, let no one recognize me.

Pael and Ziff were nibbling on bite-size cheese pies and discussing the finer points of bass guitar.

"What do you think, slut?" Nahia asked. "Should I give your poor little clit some relief?"

"Yes," Rhune sobbed softly. "Please, touch me!"

Nahia's fingertips seemed to possess a weight, a power that her own touch didn't. It reminded her of being a child, visiting one of the great museums for the first time, hearing her voice reflected back in massive, delightful reverberations that seemed to glow. Running down the halls, shouting, just to hear that sound.

This time, her orgasm shot through her with shocking force -- and the satisfied warmth lingered blessedly inside her, as it had not done when she had attempted to take care of her own needs in the lav.

She'd have said it was like a drink of water in the desert, but in truth, she'd never faced real deprivation of any kind, and had no idea what it was like.

All she knew was a sense of relief she'd never felt before, leaving her in a woozy, happy haze. So much so, that she entirely forgot to clean up before leaving the restaurant, until she noticed to her horror that she had come still oozing from her as they walked the streets.